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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446668">Worry Not When the Moon Rises</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/W_H_4_T/pseuds/W_H_4_T'>W_H_4_T</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>14 Days of DA Lovers Stuff [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Goddamnit Bear Dad you make me so sad in a good way, Kissing at Midnight, Secret Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/W_H_4_T/pseuds/W_H_4_T</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for day 10 of the 14 days of DA lovers 2021 event on Tumblr! The prompt was Midnight Rendezvous.<br/>***<br/>Cast all your fears aside till the dawn comes. The world may keep us apart but the night is not so cruel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Josephine Montilyet, Blackwall/Josephine Montilyet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>14 Days of DA Lovers Stuff [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worry Not When the Moon Rises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, I am obsessed with those two as you can very well see.<br/>This story is literally Waning Crescent condensed into 600 words lol (I deleted Waning Cresent till i get it finished lol)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a method to her madness. Everything is planned, everything she does is always planned. When the 11th-hour strikes, Josephine brushes her hair, untangling curls that have been twisted by her constant worrying. The vanity holds her reflection, and she sighs softly as the full moon looms outside her window; granting her preparation some charm.</p><p>She was nervous, anxious, excited as she’d been so many times before and never once did the feeling fade, the flight of fancy carrying her high. There’s always some excitement in a midnight tryst; the risk of it all hanging like an albatross, like the very affair that drove the Montilyets from Orlais.</p><p>It was frightening and fervent with fire coiling and carving a path from her belly to her heart.</p><p>She tucks one last curl behind her ear before lighting a lantern, her heart racing, legs trembling as she silently bade her room farewell. </p><p>Stalking the halls, she kept an eye out for patrolling guards, her Bard practice lending its skill in passive steps. From the frozen stone hallways to the bracing night winds, Josephine holds the lantern high; the barn caught in her sight.</p><p>And she sees him, the gallant man, arms crossed standing in the half-shadow of the night, underneath the barn door; silver eyes near white in the moon’s glow. </p><p>He’s normally so dour, reticent and distant but as he lays his eyes on her, he smiles even from beneath his heavy beard.</p><p>Like a rabbit to the meadows, she runs, abandoning all worry, all propriety, all fussing.</p><p>The lantern clinks as he holds her up, strong arms accustomed to breaking necks now holding her like a swan’s neck; delicately, preciously. Her arm stretches over his shoulder, holding the fire away from him but the heat in their bodies refuses to fade.</p><p>For all his crassness, he’s a gentleman, that Blackwall.</p><p>His hair is coarse beneath her fingers as she brings him forward, brushing noses then lips, their breath quickening like small animal’s hearts. Josephine knows that the difference in station was too great but as the Warden moves his head to nuzzle her neck, she drives the thought from her mind, her arm curling around his shoulders.</p><p>“You’re early.” he whispers, his beard tickling her skin as he speaks.</p><p>The diplomat is silent as Blackwall puts her down, his hand reaching up to cup her jaw, running a thumb along her cheek. For all her schooling, discipline and propriety, Josephine indulged, allowing herself some selfishness, away from the elevation of Houses, the legacy, the burden of it all.</p><p>“I could not wait for a second more, my Knight.” she replies, her tone earnest, her voice, hushed.</p><p>The lantern dims from a night breeze as the pair move into the barn, the soft snorting of horses promising to keep their clandestine meeting just that. </p><p>As they lay across the bedrolls and furs, Josephine brushes her hands through Blackwall’s beard, noting the lack of knots normally prevalent in his mane. Drawing the sheet up higher, Josephine covered them both from the chill of Skyhold, the moon as her only light, noting with quiet laughter that she wasn’t the only one worried about their appearance.</p><p>She smiles before leaning in to kiss his lined forehead, all sweetness, sighs and poetry.</p><p>Hanging overhead were a few words neither spoke, for fear of many things unseen; family, legacy, reputation mirrored by the past, the truth, the rejection.</p><p>That didn’t mean it wasn’t felt as Josephine snuggled back into the blanket, against her Knight who laced his arm around her waist;  delicately as one would hold weathered parchment. </p><p>The nervousness fluttered away under the moonlit night; the Wordsmith and her Warden in their own world till the clock struck dawn.</p><p>
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